Every time I make a mistake,
I let it go.
I let it slip to the devil
who returns it inside me again.
I don't know why
my subconscious let me wander away from my aspirations.
I never ponder upon those events
that I never want to reenact
ever in my life.
They say 'To err is human.'
But making the same mistake
again and again ,
Is acceptable?
My mistakes are probably forgiven.
But I'm not.
I'm rewarded with apathy instead.
YOU ARE READING
Debris Of My Existence
PoetryThe memories and experience of my life collided and bombarded itself as a bomb explosion. And now there only exists the debris of my existence.
